and eternity goes on
by the queen of slurking
Summary: life doesn't tend to be kind to humans. or, the life of a human woman and her immortal daughter. very slight potential spoilers for 5x11. oneshot.


_**AN: **__Potentially spoilery for 5x11, though not really, because I didn't like how the episode ended. For more details on anything, feel free to PM me._

Caroline dies at seventeen and Liz hates to say this, but she didn't know until much later. Sure, she'd noticed one day the addition of a silver ring with a blue stone, and that her daughter wore it a lot, but she never thought much of it. It was her duty to notice these things, but she figured it was a new fashion trend and let it be.

She sometimes wondered how it was even possible that her daughter became another species entirely and she never noticed.

In the cellar, she talks to Caroline about her new life and she learns that not all vampires are _badevildemons_. She learns that vampires can be good and that beneath the fangs and heightened senses, Caroline is still the little girl she once was. Under the surface is still the child who twirled in a tutu and whose knee she bandaged with Disney band-aids.

It's a relief.

Suddenly the fear melts away a bit and Caroline tells her about the other vampires, the existence of ancient ones and she can't quite wrap her head around the fact that there's a girl who looks just like Elena, but completely more vicious. She stops trying to understand, and stops looking away when Caroline says she's hungry and reaches for a blood bag.

She doesn't think she'll ever fully understand, but that's okay.

Bill comes into town and chains Caroline up, steals the daylight protection and attacks their daughter with vervain. Later she feeds her blood and realizes that Caroline's grown up a lot more. She's more confident and sure of herself, and she seems to like being a vampire. It's as if the old personality died in that hospital bed, and this is the new version of her emerging. She's strong and ageless and _perfectimperfect._

Klaus' presence at her door is the reminder that Caroline doesn't quite have immortality, but she can see in his eyes that he wants to heal her and so she lets him in.

0o0o0o0

She learns later that Elena turns at eighteen and wonders if it's a sign of how things have become that she's grateful Elena had an extra year of human life. By all rights, she shouldn't have had that year though, going by what Caroline's said, and she wonders if Caroline envies her. Caroline hated being seventeen, after all, and more than once she complained that it was the filler year before things got good.

She's reassured that Bonnie is still mortal, though it's a little strange to see Caroline and Elena together and know that neither of them will age again.

Bonnie vanishes for a time, and she can't honestly say that she finds it strange. People take summers abroad, after all, and there's emails and texts. It's a shock, then, that she learns Bonnie is back from the dead and somehow immortal. This, she doesn't quite understand, because it's not quite as cut-and-dry as becoming a vampire. She doesn't ask – she just hugs Bonnie and offers the girls food.

She's slightly shocked when one day she realizes that her daughter and her two best friends will never see twenty. They're all grownup and frozen in time _seventeeneighteennineteen_ and her heart breaks just a little for them.

They seem to not mind it though, so she smiles and knows that two out of three can probably sense her deceit.

0o0o0o0

Caroline graduates at _technically_ twenty-two and she watches proudly as she poses in the graduation garb the school has supplied. It's jarring though, to see that she still has the face of a seventeen-year-old, and she thinks wistfully on high school graduation. Back then, looking young wasn't suspicious or unusual, but here are three teenagers among a sea of twenty-somethings.

It's almost like they're playing roles: the normal girls they try to be. Caroline does her makeup with a steady hand, creating subtle illusions and styles her hair in a way that always draws compliments for being a touch more mature. Elena darkens her hair with colour; cuts it shorter and looks older for it. Bonnie smudges her eyes with liner and shadow and looks maybe a bit younger than Elena.

They sit down in the restaurant for the post-graduation dinner and she notices Caroline wears the bracelet Klaus once gave her. It was once tucked away, but in the last few years something must've changed.

Back at home Bonnie disappears to visit her mother and Caroline goes to bed early.

Elena sits with her and drinks tea, offers her a little vial of vervain so she doesn't need to lace the water. It's the first time they've been able to talk in some time, and she knows that Elena has held some level of guilt for dragging her friends into the supernatural.

"It's fate, or destiny, cheesy as it sounds," Elena tells her, and she's surprised to hear her making such a statement. She raises an eyebrow in a silent question and Elena shrugs, setting down her tea.

"My ancestor was used to create vampires – the bloodline has long since been connected to the supernatural. An even more distant ancestor was the first immortal woman." She links her fingers, thinking. Elena too has become stronger, better since she first turned. There's still a residual old sadness, but that's seen less often nowadays.

"So… you never had a choice," Liz guesses. Elena's answering smile is sad and wry and it tells Liz what she already knows.

"No. I could no more choose this than you could choose your eye colour," and it's a far cry from when Elena used to despair at her supernatural life. "I guess you could say I was supernatural at birth: part of an ancient bloodline, blood that can be used in magic and rituals. Katherine was the same – we never chose this. She just chose to survive."

Liz remembers Katherine, how she'd killed Caroline so easily. The old anger rises, and Elena can probably tell by her heartbeat. She'll never quite get used to that.

She understands that Elena isn't defending her ancestor or her actions – merely making an observation. She nods quietly, hearing in the last comment the unsaid things that Katherine must have done to survive. Killed or turned people, faked her death and toyed with people to get her way, and it worked because she survived five centuries before becoming human and then didn't survive that. Liz still doesn't pretend to understand magic, but she does understand that Katherine was nearly technically alive – _deadundeaddeadagain._

She remembers when death was permanent.

0o0o0o0

Caroline's been dead eleven years when she and Klaus marry. Liz doesn't quite know how it all happened, but one day Caroline's calling to tell her they kissed, and she supposes they took it from there.

Before the wedding, they meet for dinner and she learns that he paints and Caroline is currently modelling. In a way it's the perfect choice for her: she can work for a few years and her age won't be questioned until about five years in. Klaus is well-off, the result of a thousand years on earth, and can provide for Caroline into the next millennium if they so choose. In an homage to Caroline's age, Klaus quietly asks her permission to marry her daughter, and she readily agrees.

She knows a bit about what he's done in the past, and so does Caroline, but it goes unspoken. At some point Liz decided to not define the future by the past, and her eyes prickle slightly when she sees the way Klaus looks at Caroline.

Bonnie and Elena are bridesmaids and Liz is maid of honour. They compel the minister to ignore the youth of the bridal party – in fact, she's sure they compelled away any age concerns, because Elijah, in his suit, looks late-twenties and just a bit out of place. It's surreal for Liz, she's the _mortal_ oldest among them and she feels a bit awkward. She glances around, noting various blue-stoned rings on bands of gold or silver (necklaces and bracelets just don't seem popular, she thinks in the back of her mind), and is grateful that Caroline decided to keep in touch with the human world, because she doesn't want to be the only aging person in a roomful of people untouched by time.

True to form, the wedding goes perfectly.

Nowadays, she stops asking when things are smoothed over with compulsion and people don't mention it. The servers pass around glasses with _bloodorredwinewhoknows_ and she politely opts for white wine instead.

She's used to it now, but red wine hasn't looked the same since the time she brought Caroline blood bags to help her recover.

0o0o0o0

April Young joins the council a few years later, having returned from college. She's married and has a small son, and Liz is reminded for the first time that she won't have grandkids. Adoption is a possibility, though she worries that Caroline's apparent youth will be a deterrent. She's quit modelling, saying she wants to go back to school, and is now the proud holder of a Masters in theatre.

It turns out that she did the work via correspondence and online, eliminating the worry about being questioned about her age. Liz smiles at her, wishes she could be a little more honest with her, takes the photocopy of the new certificate and puts it away. It's a reminder of how Caroline's had to isolate herself from the world to get her degree; a reminder of how Elena created the façade of a recluse so people didn't wonder why such a young girl knew so much about the world; how Bonnie chooses to teach and a few compulsions later, her colleagues don't notice that she's young and her students are only in her classes for a few months – no-one sticks around long enough to notice that she's frozen in time.

Immortality's a lonely thing, she realizes, and she finds that she doesn't envy her daughter.

0o0o0o0

There's a family-and-friends reunion when Caroline's thirty-five birthday approaches. She's eighteen years in vampire terms and it's a small crowd that gathers, but no-one minds.

Klaus still looks at her with _devotiontrustlove_; Elijah seems in awe of Elena; Bonnie's giddy with her newly-turned boyfriend Andrew, whom she met _somevacationsometimecantrememberwhen._ She realizes this must be what immortality does to you, makes time meaningless and the days blur into night.

The couples bring adopted children with them, and she concludes that this is how you make eternity meaningful, doing things in the world that changes things. They're all offering good lives to the children they choose, and Klaus' smile is oh-so-slightly mischievous when he tells her they can always compel their ways into later adoptions. Elijah still writes for history journals; Elena and Bonnie sometimes work with him on mythology and fiction; Caroline draws upon modelling experience to counsel her students on the good and the bad; Klaus paints and creates new styles of art.

He'd know what hasn't been done yet anyway.

0o0o0o0

Liz is fifty-six when she considers turning. She knows Klaus and Elijah have turned countless vampires, _toomanytocountsomuchhistory_, and Caroline's only turned a handful of people. As far as she knows, Elena's the one who hasn't turned someone yet.

She doesn't want to continue aging, continue the dying process while her family embraces eternity. This comes from the various high school graduations of her grandchildren – something she never thought she'd have – and she listens to the lies the immortals tell. _Oldersisteryoungerbrotherparentsoutside…_ it makes her heart clench to realize that they'll never be able to call the kids theirs.

They conceal the lapis lazuli, not wanting to run the risk of someone commenting on four similar rings, and smile adoringly as they snap photos and meet people. Andrew rubs his arm, acting human, and "steps outside for fresh air" with Bonnie. She knows this is his code for drinking blood from the black-painted water bottle he carries, and knows this is what would lie ahead of her were she to turn.

She changes her mind.

0o0o0o0

When Liz is sixty-three, Caroline gets her doctorate and giggles about being a child prodigy – how many other seventeen-year-olds get doctorates, after all?

"The same number of eighteen-year-olds with a dozen published novels," Liz quips, and Caroline hugs her randomly.

There's a great-grandchild on the way, and Klaus comments on the potential of an heir. She knows him well enough know to know that he's not quite joking: that one day he'll tire of ruling New Orleans and want to give up and that of course there needs to be someone to succeed him. It seems Caroline is the best counter to his paranoia and jealousy.

Caroline comments lazily that this is just the beginning, and Liz knows enough now to understand that she'll go on to get other degrees, study and become a doctor-of a dozen times over, whatever she wants. The sky really is the limit. She envies Elijah and Klaus on her daughter's behalf because they turned old enough to plausibly be professors or lawyers but Caroline would have a _lot_ of compulsion to do before she could be a professor.

Liz hates the supernatural for robbing her daughter of all the possibilities. The sky's the limit, but she still has limits and they all pertain to her age.

0o0o0o0

Liz is seventy-six and her memory begins to fade. She remembers well enough, but the day-to-day details start to blur around the edges. Groceries become slightly forgotten and she takes to carrying a notepad to record things she needs to do. After the dinner at which Caroline notices her shaky hands, she and Klaus employ her a housekeeper to help with the little tasks.

She doesn't notice Amelia's presence for several weeks, knowing that the things she needs done get done but with less recall of how it happened. The woman is discreet though, and the notes Liz makes vanish and things get done. Once she properly meets Amelia, they become friends through talking about grandchildren and accomplishments and it's nice.

She remembers a time when her conversation with other women revolved around _supernaturalverveaindevicesvampiredeath_ and relishes the normality.

The family becomes more careful about how and when they visit. Liz realizes there's a timetable in place and they're always careful to avoid Amelia. She plays her part by telling her that they live states away, and her son-in-law doesn't like flying.

Amelia nods sympathetically and unloads the groceries.

0o0o0o0

She's eighty-two now and doesn't like being around others much. She retired at a reasonable age, but she feels her brain is beginning to atrophy. A woman can only do so many crosswords and read so many murder mysteries, and she's bored.

She remembers the days of hunting vampires and has to sometimes suspend her disbelief – _didthatreallyhappentome_. She has great-great-grandchildren now, and she hates to admit this, but she's not quite able to remember them all. She knows they're adopted, because her daughter couldn't have kids. Caroline seems content as ever, though at first she mistakes her for a grandchild.

"You look so _young,"_ she tells her, and Caroline forces a smile as Klaus bends to hug her. They seem to have a conversation with their eyes – they've only got more in tune with each other over the years – and Caroline seems to brace herself to say something.

The words seem to stop in her throat and Caroline shrugs. "Good genes, clean living," she says, but there's a tremble to her voice and Liz wonders why she's upset.

They pour red wine and drink quickly, trying to be subtle, and she wonders about the secrecy. She herself drank on occasion; she doesn't mind if they do. She tells them this and they nod, evidently slightly embarrassed but not minding anyway.

0o0o0o0

Amelia's no longer around, three years buried, and they move in to be close. She doesn't feel like she's dying, but she supposes she is. They all are, and yet she sees the discomfort in their faces when she says this.

(Caroline and Klaus made the decision long ago to not discuss vampires: they know that time hasn't touched them while Liz has been affected by every day, decades piling up on them)

It becomes important to her to know that Caroline's had a full life, and she learns that she has. Through Klaus she has a brother and sister, and the knowledge that she has family is one of the better pieces of news. She sometimes wished Caroline could've had siblings, but this is the best other option. Caroline won't be alone when she's gone.

They don't seem to worry when she expresses concern for work, and they explain that nowadays they're self-employed. Right now Klaus is painting and Elena is writing, and Elijah is a businessman. Caroline's gone into law, and she wonders at the odds of two creative people finding their less-creative match. She learns that they're taking time off from life in general and she remembers that Klaus is independently wealthy: they can afford to do what they like.

She asks Caroline one day about vampires, and Caroline shrugs lightly, twists the ring on her finger and the stone is hidden. She's sure that vampires used to be in Mystic Falls, and Klaus explains that they left some decades ago.

It doesn't seem a coincidence that vampires left around the time that Caroline and Elena moved away, but she doesn't say this. She doesn't want to make things tense between them now.

"You're a vampire." She looks at Caroline, steady gaze something a little more unusual for her. Caroline's been here almost two years and Liz has seen her getting complacent, just slightly. A splotch of red that is neither lipstick nor red wine on the corner of her mouth; a wineglass tinted and not smelling like wine; a label reading B-positive on a plastic bag.

It all adds up, and Caroline tenses, neither confirming nor denying.

Liz places her hand gently over Caroline's. "I love you."

Caroline's eyes water, but she smiles back at her. "Love you too," and Liz has a flash of memory to several decades ago when Caroline was leaving, for school or meeting her friends and calling out "love you" as she raced out the door. She still sees that little girl, tucked away under the designer clothes and shiny technology and the heavy textbooks that weigh down the desk.

She sees that Caroline's had a good life and that most importantly, she's happy. She still pushes herself too hard and does too much, and is still entirely neurotic about the little details of life. Vampirism has changed her for the better, and Liz can't remember a time she was so happy to be proved wrong.

She sleeps peacefully that night.

0o0o0o0

Caroline watches over her mother. The heartbeat, usually strong, is becoming _quieterweakerslowersofter_ and she knows time is running out. Her hands, once steady, have started to tremble and she becomes cold easily. She can't help but feel guilt for the fact that she hasn't succumbed to time in so many years, and from the look on Elena and Bonnie's faces, they feel the same. Liz wakes up, voice raspy and eyes a faded colour, and Caroline can see it on their faces: the pain and sorrow that's going to be present soon.

They hide their tears with expert chatter and the men come in, bearing muffins and tea and water.

The goodbyes are assorted: Andrew and Elijah leave first, paying respect to the woman they didn't know quite as well as the others did. Klaus lingers, understands something he hasn't known in almost eleven hundred years, and wraps his hand around hers.

Bonnie and Elena leave next, hugging Caroline fiercely, and she breaks a piece off the chair as if that's going to help hold back her tears.

Liz isn't gone _quite _yet, but time is not kind to humans.

Klaus comes in the next morning to find Caroline with tear-smudged makeup and wearing a black dress that has become synonymous with a death in their family.

The others file in, already knowing thanks to their superb hearing. Elijah and Klaus recite the prayer used when they were human and a neighbour from the village passed. True to fashion, Caroline begins planning and preparing in anticipation for the funeral, and the others don't interrupt.

Somewhere along the way this has become a funeral ritual, with the one closest to the deceased being supported quietly by the others.

She decides that night to shift to_ law enforcement._

Liz is buried on a sunny day and her extended family is the majority of the attendants. She was the last of her generation on the council and succeeded most of her friends.

The grave is smooth and almost perfect. Caroline's flawless vision picks up on the rough patch, and she smooths it, flattening the dirt into one unbroken line. Klaus waits silently, ready to accompany her back to the house when she chooses. Not for the first time, she looks at her daylight ring and considers the fact that it's the only thing protecting her from burning up on a day like this.

Klaus was right, she likes being ageless and strong and beautiful, and as she links her arm through his ready to depart, she mourns the fact that she'll never have a grave.


End file.
